10 Things I Fear About You
by PheonRen
Summary: Virgin M Cousland marries Anora. Because he's petrified of beautiful women, Anora must find a way to seduce him. Adult themes, sexuality. MA  m/f pairing


_Dragon Age is the intellectual property of BioWare corporation. No infringement is intended._

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_This was a requested story based on this premise: So there have been many virgin Alistair and Anora fics but everywhere I look the Couslands are smooth talking charmers with a lot of experience. So virgin!lover anon wants hawt Virgin M!CouslandXAnora sex. _

_The main theme is how Anora is delighted/confused that he is a polar opposite of her previous husband, who used to be dominant in bed but dumped all the duties on her when is came to running the country. Overall M!Cous is smart, has a good grasp of politics, very active and sometimes opposing her in the court. He is smooth charm and intelligence in every sense...other than when it comes to women. The reason can be anything...but Caligynephobia is preferred. :P_

_Bonus points for humor and crack!,flashbacks of failed! morrigan and leliana seduction attempts._

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**1. Old Friends**

"Aedan!" Alistair stepped in the doorway, closing the massive wooden thing behind him.

"Alistair!" Aedan greeted him. "So nice to see you. What brings you back to Denerim?"

"Warden business," Alistair slumped across a chair and tossed his gauntlets into another. "What else is there?"

"Politics, war, religion," Aedan said. "Any three of which I could probably go my life without ever hearing of again."

"Better you than me," Alistair answered easily. "You love it, admit it."

"The Bannorn are up in arms again," Aedan explained, gazing out the heavily dormered window.

"They were out of arms?"

Aedan shot him a grin, and Alistair shrugged with a responding grin.

"As a matter of fact, they were quite settled in until about two weeks ago. Apparently—"

"No. I don't want to know. That's why I'd have been a terrible King." Alistair grabbed one of the sandwiches off of Aedan's untouched tray. "That's pweffy goo," he said around a mouthful of food.

"It should be, it's expensive," Aedan said.

"Always worried about cost." Alistair grabbed another sandwich. This time he managed to speak before the food went in, "How's married life treatin' ya?"

**2. First Comes Marriage**

"It's even worse than I thought," Aedan told him, running a hand through his hair.

"How could it be worse than that?" Alistair was grinning at him, and Aedan glared in response.

"I… she's just… I don't know what to say to her. I can face down the Teyrns, I can face down an angry mob. I can handle an Archdemon. But Anora? I think every cell in my brain melts and I just stand there while the goo oozes out of my mouth."

"Wow. That's a great picture. I need to get someone to draw that for me and put it up on my wall, so I can think about that every. Single. Time. I. Eat." Alistair threw the sandwich he'd just grabbed back onto the tray.

"You're welcome," Aedan told him.

Alistair got up and headed for the door. He stopped and turned and looked back in. "You married her, man. You're gonna have to do your duty by her sooner or later." He made a rude swishing motion with his hips and laughed, dodging the sandwich that fell apart on its way towards him.

Aedan sat down at his desk and tried to focus on papers. He had mountains of papers. Tons of them. Lots and lots of distraction.

But the woman whom he was supposed to be distracting himself from, kept distracting him from his paperwork, instead.

He'd married Anora only to become King. And if he were honest with himself, he'd done that in large part to spare Alistair. Yet once he had become King, he'd found he loved the administrative and political aspects of it. He continually found new resources, new ways to solve problems.

He had already charmed the Ambassador from Orlais to the point where the man was asking him to be the Godfather to his nephew. The Ambassador from Antiva brought his family with him every week to dine with Aedan and Anora.

The Bannorn had known more peace in these last few months than had been known in recorded history, and Aedan had even managed to keep his promises, negotiating deals with the Nobles that actually brought mutual satisfaction to both.

But there was one big, glaring problem.

Ferelden demanded an heir.

Which really, shouldn't have been that big of a problem at all. A little sweet talk, a bit of sex… and viola. He'd been informed all of his life how easy it was to reproduce.

Except there was one petite, graceful obstacle in his path to reproduction: His wife, the Queen.

Now, it wasn't that he didn't want to reproduce with her. In fact, the thought made him ache with a very literal physical longing. He reached down and corrected the ache—at least a little bit.

The problem was that he had yet to even speak with her outside of a board room, a meeting room, or a royal event of some sort. Even on their wedding night, he had vomited on her, run from the room, and vomited three more times on his way down the hall.

It was, however, actually his best moment with a beautiful woman. He stood up and looked out the window, looking down into the courtyard below to see the object of his lust—and his vomiting—strolling across it.

Luckiest guy in the Kingdom; married to the beautiful, ephemeral Queen. If only they knew…

The vomit-king of all Ferelden.

3. Then Comes Silence

He hadn't spoken to her privately again since then. He had tried repeatedly. He'd gone to her suite one day, knocked on the door, and entered at her invitation.

"I…I just…I didn't…It wasn't you," he'd managed to blurt out. "I…" Then he'd run from the room. He couldn't even remember what he'd meant to tell her. That, in spite of the fact that he'd been holding the paper in his hand at the time.

When he realized it, he ran back in, threw the paper in her general direction, and ran back out. The pages had all stared at him like his head had fallen off or something.

But no… his brain had just fallen out. But at least he had managed to convey to her that he hadn't intended to decorate her bridal nightwear with the most offensive matter in the world.

He'd gone there, actually, with absolute intent to decorate her in various other ways, just like Fergus and his buddies had always bragged about.

Instead, he'd left her a note like a schoolboy.

She had replied, and he still had her message… "Dearest Aedan, I understand. I am not upset by what happened, and I do not blame you. Perhaps we can have dinner together on Tuesday and talk more. Yours, Anora"

He had gone to dinner on that Tuesday, but he hadn't been able to eat, and hadn't been able to look at her. When she asked him a question, he'd tried to speak and choked on a chicken bone.

The irony of it had not been lost on him.

So he'd tried to write her a note again. He wrote it and wrote it. He finally sent a note along with a small figurine to her, simply saying, "Please forgive me."

She had written back again, and he had that note as well. "Dearest Aedan, There is nothing to forgive, as you did nothing wrong. Perhaps we could take a stroll in the garden on Friday. Yours, Anora."

It had rained on Friday, and he had sent a note saying, "I'm afraid we cannot walk the garden today. It is raining."

Her answer had been simply, "Dearest Aedan, It is a covered garden. Yours, Anora."

He'd gone, because he couldn't get out of it. But he had rushed her so fast through the garden, without saying a word, that she had pulled loose of him and gone to her rooms without saying anything, either.

He recognized that he'd pushed his luck with her, and he also knew that it was pretty much coming down to a wire anytime. He was going to have to face this sometime.

**4. Days Go By**

He'd then gone on a short tour around Ferelden. His subjects adored him. He walked among the common people as a Warden, reminding them that he was not only a King, but a Protector as well.

He walked among the Nobles as a King, reminding them that he was an authority, that his rank was superior, and that he presided over their power and prestige.

He met with dignitaries, ambassadors, and even fellow Monarchs. It all went by swiftly and with great ease.

He could speak to her in public formats, so long as it pertained to politics. He had even challenged her directly when he disagreed with her policy of enforced liege-taking amongst the Bannorn.

He had won the day, and even managed to smile at her when she nodded and smiled at his logic.

He couldn't, for the life of him, though, speak to her directly about anything personal.

Strangely, so far as he knew, no one knew of their peculiar estrangement. Their bedrooms were adjacent, like all noble married couples' rooms were, and it seemed that there was a running assumption that they coupled and then went their separate ways.

Oh, he wished. How he wished!

It was definitely an untrue assessment, though. He hadn't even actually touched her since their wedding day, when he'd put the ring on her finger and smiled for his new subjects.

If he didn't have being King to sustain him, he would have felt he was entirely insane.

**5. Busybodies Unite**

His reverie was interrupted by Alistair returning.

"Now what do you want?" Aedan asked.

"I heard there was sammiches in here," Oghren said, grabbing one and then flopping as negligently into the chair as Alistair had—and did once more.

He started eating while Alistair said, "I think that's the one he threw at me. There's nug hair on it."

"Den ya kin eat da other haf," Oghren said, spewing bread crumbs and stuffing the sandwich into Alistair's laughing face.

"Come on, the servants are going to think I'm friends with a herd of pigs," Aedan reprimanded them mildly, fighting to keep the grin off of his face.

He didn't have to fight for long, though.

"So ye ain't rode the bronto yet, huh, son?" Oghren told him.

"Oh, no. No! I'm not doin' this again with you two," Aedan said. "Out! Get out!"

"Come on, ye ain't still hung up on Leliana, are ye?" Oghren asked.

Alistair snickered.

"What're you laughin' at?" Oghren asked the Warden Commander. "Humpin' Morrigan to make a demon-child ain't exactly havin' sex."

"Now, that's not nice, Morrigan is a lovely woman," Aedan argued. "If a bit—"

"Evil, nasty, vicious, spiteful, bitchy—" Alistair looked to be on a roll so Aedan cut him off in the middle of it.

"You managed to do the deed well enough, didn't you?" Aedan asked him.

"Yeah, better than you and poor Leliana," Alistair laughed.

**6. Recollections**

"Do you really think reminding me of that is going to make it any easier to sleep with Anora?" Aedan asked, hoping to head the two off before they started up again.

Alistair leaned backwards over his chair, half laying in Oghren's lap. "Oh, Aedan," he said, batting his eyes. "I need a poultice right HERE," and pantomimed lifting up the neckline of a lowcut shirt and pointing at a breast.

"Pweh!" Oghren yelled, acting out Aeden's other most famous vomiting incident….

Alistair hopped up and started squealing, jumping around the room and flapping his arms and fanning himself. "Oh, Maker preserve me! Maker preserve me!" Then he stopped and looked at Aedan, bending forward into a very feminine position in his imitation of Leliana, his hand to his lips in a moue. "I guess it was too soon for that, wasn't it?"

Aedan buried his face in his hands as Oghren and Alistair fell into their chairs, howling with laughter.

A loud rap sounded and the door opened. His valet stuck his head in, his face wreathed in concern. "Is everything okay here, Sire?"

"Yes, Hutchins," Aedan said, waving the man away.

"Very well, Sire," the man said with an arrogant sniff at the two cackling reprobates. "As you please." He shut the door and retreated.

"Why do I even allow you two into the palace anymore?" Aedan asked rhetorically. "I swear you're worse than two little old women."

Another knock sounded at the door, and Aedan's heart sank to his shoes as it opened to admit… Anora, of all people.

"Your Majesty, if I may have a moment?" Her hands wrung in front of her in their usual weaving pattern.

"I…"

Alistair and Oghren slipped past her. "We were just leaving, Your Majesty," Alistair told her, picking up his gauntlets and bowing.

He turned around and pointed down at her, then swung his hips towards his hands in a humping gesture and grinned. She turned to look at him and he sobered instantly, much like a lad some twenty years his junior might have done.

She turned back to Aedan and then they were gone.

**7. Unbound**

He actually felt a bit bolstered by his friends' chatter. He managed to squeak out, "My Lady…" but no more.

"I wished to speak to you on a matter of some importance. I would be grateful if you did not run off this time." She shut the door behind her, and stood leaning against it. Clearly, she meant to be certain of it.

"Ferelden needs an heir. I know you have no interest in producing one with me." She held up her hand to silence him as he attempted to object.

She straightened up to her full, very short, height. "Cailan had other lovers, though he was careful that none should result in a bastard. I know that you have had none since we married," she looked away, her face reddening. "But I would wish to remind you that it would be better for you to do that, than leave the nation open to civil war. Your reign will be short by necessity, as you are a Gray Warden, and everyone knows what happens…"

She looked away from him. "I… I have heard rumors that you may have coupled with that witch, Morrigan, before we were wed. If this is true, you should go and find her, in case—"

"No!" he shouted it, silencing her in mid-sentence. "I… I… I didn't… I cou-cou-…" He sighed and took a deep breath, turning to stare out the window, breathing deeply and squeezing his eyes shut. "I couldn't!" There. He had admitted it.

"I haven't… at all. With anyone. I…" He thought he heard her move and screwed his eyes shut even tighter.

"I tried. But I was… I kicked her. She was naked and she was climbing on me and I… I kicked her. I panicked and I hit her… well, if she was a man, she would never have had children. She hated Alistair… but she… she wouldn't even try again with me… so I didn't…"

He heard a giggle from behind him. He turned to look at her in stark terror.

She was trying valiantly to keep herself under control. "You kicked her in the…. Between the legs?"

He nodded mutely and she stared at him for a few moments before slipping from the room. He heard her laughing in the hallway and sank into his chair.

"Oh good. Now the whole world can laugh at the vomit King," he told his hands. "Lucky me."

**8. A Fine Art**

Aedan's first realization that he was being seduced came some months after the "Morrigan" incident, as he'd begun to call that day in the office.

Anora had been coming to more and more functions with him, sitting beside him and discussing politics with him. She'd obviously made it a point to have herself seated next to him every time, because she no longer ever sat anywhere else.

He'd noticed it, but not thought much of it, until the day she dropped her napkin and bent down to pick it up, waving the servant who rushed forward back into his place.

He looked down into soft, pale breasts and almost forgot what Ambassador Felroux just asked him.

He had almost become used to her up to that point. Almost forgotten that she was a wife, not a political ally.

"Bringing them over the mounds would be the shortest route, but not the safest," he answered the question. "Er, mountains." He felt the blush run across his face and noticed the fleeting grin on the Ambassador's face.

Anora sat beside him, chattering quietly with Fergus' wife, seated on her other side. Relieved she'd missed his foolish gaffe, he continued to speak to the Ambassador.

The next time he got conformation of the inkling that was starting to run through him, was when she became short with the servant who was pouring his tea, and insisted on doing it herself. She brushed against him with a breast, and asked him in a silken voice, "Cream, Your Majesty?"

He dropped the teacup in his lap, spraying its contents on everyone in the near vicinity as he tried to recover by catching it.

She just smiled and sent for another cup, turning to him and saying simply, "I guess not."

He left and changed, returning to sit beside her. Once again, she ignored him completely. He didn't recover for the rest of the luncheon, finally excusing himself to pace in his office, pretending it was work.

**9: Reeling in the Trout**

Another issue kept arising. He was finding that she often had paperwork he needed. He sent for it each time, but it seemed as if it took longer and longer for the pages to return with the necessary paperwork.

Exasperated, he finally went one day to get it himself.

"I need…" He started but couldn't continue.

"The latest Bannorn treaties?"

"Y-yes."

She got up, picked up an envelope filled with papers and handed them to him. Then she sat back down and went back to writing. He stared at her, her breasts spilling over the top of her dress, and tried to think of something to say.

"Is that all, Your Majesty?" she asked after a moment, looking up at him from under her lashes.

"I… thank you." He half ran, half walked back to his office.

By the end of the week, he was able to go in and ask for what he wanted. He managed to peek a few more times at her luscious breasts, to his pleasure. Though he almost got caught once.

The next week, he went in to pick up some paperwork, but before he could leave, she asked him a question about her current project. He forgot what it was, but remembered that he sat talking to her and sneaking peeks at her breasts for almost an hour.

He could even sit beside her at luncheons now and say "Yes please," when she offered him cream—even though he didn't actually even like cream in his tea. Did he even like tea?

It didn't matter much, he'd come to enjoy her brushing lightly against him as she poured the cream into it. So he drank it to please her.

One day, he was sitting in her office, looking at a page from one of the more complex treaties. She came over and sat beside him, reading over his shoulder. She reached out to point something out to him, and he found himself staring at her, instead.

Her lips were bright and beautiful and so very, very close…

"Aedan?" she asked him.

"Yes?" He could speak in her presence now. Mostly.

"I think it's right there." Her finger was pointing something out to him on the paper in front of him. He couldn't quite focus on it.

Her eyes looked into his. Her lips were so close. His stomach clenched in protest. He took a deep breath and pressed his lips to hers. It was brief. It was quick. He pulled away and looked at her.

She just smiled, and looked back down at the paperwork in his lap. He followed her queue and returned to the discussion at hand.

But he grinned for the whole rest of the day.

**10. Next Comes Lust**

He was distracted again. He was thinking about that kiss. He went to see her again, finding an excuse, some paperwork or another. She was sitting beside him again.

So he tried it again. This time, he took a minute to really taste her lips. Her hand gently touched his cheek, and he jumped. She gave no response to his withdrawal at all, simply standing up to get the paperwork he'd asked for.

He took it and ran from the room.

He went back that afternoon. She wasn't there.

He wandered back to his office. He went back the next morning. She wasn't there, again.

Where the hell was his wife?

An inquiry managed to get him directions out to the garden, where he found her sitting in the sun under an umbrella.

"Hello, Your Majesty. What can I do for you?"

A lot, but only some of it could be said out loud.

"I wanted to ask you about the shipping lines from Antiva." It was lame. It was obvious. He didn't care.

"As you please, My King." She stood up and started strolling towards the palace, curling her arm through his.

He allowed it. He was nice like that. It would be rude, after all, to push her away. If it took longer than expected to return to the Palace, he pretended not to notice.

She walked back with him to her office. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but you've already taken those pages," she said after taking a quick, perfunctory look into her files. They both already knew it, anyway.

She came back around the desk. He stared at her. Then he decided to give her a quick kiss before he went back. Just one. A short one. She melted against him, and his arms disobeyed him and slipped around her.

When her hands slid around his neck, he pulled her even closer. He lifted his head to stare at her, then pecked her again and walked out—grinning like an idiot.

**11. Getting to the Hump**

He shut the door to her office the next day. He kissed her again. It was just an experiment. He just wanted to see how it would go.

He didn't even bother to pretend he was there for paperwork. He just kissed her, a deep, eager, rather awkward kiss. He felt her hands running across his shoulders and into his hair. It felt amazing.

She let her hands slide down to his chest, and he caught his breath, pulling away to look at her. The old fear welled in him, but he breathed deep, struggling to keep hold of that feeling of bliss that he'd experienced a moment ago.

He kissed her again, and found it quickly.

Her hands tugged at the laces on the front of his vest and he kept kissing her. When her cool, soft hands touched his skin at last, he groaned.

"Are you sure?" She looked at him with soft, glowing eyes.

He smiled and nodded. Then he reached for the laces on the back of her dress. He didn't know where they were going to do this, or how. But he didn't really care. He just wanted to experience it… though he might die of the thrill.

It would be worth it. He would die a happy man.

Her dress fell to the floor, and he felt her soft skin against his as she pushed his tunic and vest off as well. They met again and kissed, and he touched her body. He couldn't believe how soft it was, how sweet.

He squeezed his eyes closed. He could see her in his mind's eye, but he couldn't stand to open them and be intimidated by that beauty staring up at him. So he said everything he would have wanted to with his eyes, with his hands instead.

He roamed her body, lips still pasted to hers like paper on a wall. Her body under his hands, the roaming touch of her own hands, was more than he'd ever imagined possible.

"Oh Maker, Anora. You're so soft," he said, surprised he manage to find the words to grind past his teeth.

Screwing up his courage, he let his lips leave hers, and began to kiss down the side of her neck and along her shoulder. Her sighs and moans spurred him on, he could barely stand himself in his eagerness to experience every part of her.

**12. The Proper Use of Tools**

She worked to get his pants off, and he stepped back, uncertain. Was he going to be able to do this? He opened his eyes. She was watching her hands with her lower lip tucked into her teeth. He grinned, he recognized that look of focus.

It instantly put him at ease. Perhaps she knew it would, perhaps not. It didn't matter.

She managed to work his laces free, and pushed his breeches and smallclothes down over his hips. He bounced free of their confines, and she gave a slight giggle as his penis bumped against her.

Was she nervous, too?

The thought, odd as it might be, warmed him. Then fled him as she moved back against him, and wrapped her arms around him.

They kissed and touched more, but he wanted more, and soon he had pulled her smallclothes off as well, dropping them onto the floor with no more ado. He reached for the small corset that restrained her breasts, still hiding them from his probing, fascinated fingers.

He had no idea how to get the damned thing off. It was a single band of material so far as he could tell, and too tight to pull up (which attempt brought a pained "umph!") and too tight across her breasts to try to pull down (which attempt brought a squeal and his hands being pushed away).

He fought another wave of hysterical, rising fear as embarrassment rose in him. She reached around and fiddled with the back of the thing, and he realized belatedly that there were laces there.

He shrugged, trying to look suave and self-assured, and kissed her again. It was his lifeline, pulling him back to a feeling of comfort with her. Oddly, kissing her seemed to bring him back into a feeling of being in charge—being political.

He would never know she had formed that link for him on purpose.

When he felt stabilized again, he kissed her breasts. He'd heard enough to know it was very important to do that. It was a big deal for women, he understood… but little did he know how delightful it would be to hear her gasping and panting as he did it.

That could only take him so far, though. He urgently wanted to be inside her, and he started looking around for a way. He saw nothing that looked appropriate.

Anora pulled away from him and unceremoniously shoved everything off of the desk.

He stared, his mouth hanging open. "It's all out of order now!" he gasped.

She grinned. "Cailan was right about one thing." She put her hands on her hips. "That's what we have servants for."

**13: Then Comes Love (-making)**

She curled her finger in a come-hither gesture, and Aedan obeyed. He could have done nothing less.

She perched on the edge of the massive desk and pulled him close. He stumbled, nearly knocking her down, and instead of reacting to it negatively, she giggled and pulled him closer.

"I like a little eagerness," she told him when he glanced at her.

She reached down to him and he gasped when her hand closed around him. She pulled him towards her by his penis, and he felt a peculiar thrill run through him. It was incredibly sexy.

He pushed inside her when she pressed her feet against his butt, and then gasped as he was surrounded by heat, tightness, wetness. "Anora," he groaned. He couldn't stand it. He was going to lose it before he'd even been inside of her for two seconds.

"It's okay," she told him. "Just let it go. You'll be ready again within minutes—if it even goes down."

So he moved inside her, a slow back and forth rhythm. He cried out as he came, completely unable to control it, despite all the tips and tricks that he'd heard the others talking about. Such liars.

He looked into her eyes, completely shocked and embarrassed. She just smiled and pulled him down for a kiss. Her feet tugged at him, and he moved inside her again, looking down in wonder, realizing he hadn't lost his erection at all.

He watched himself slide in and out of her, and then marveled as she laid back on the desk, and reached between her legs. She began to touch herself, and he thought he might actually orgasm again already.

"You do it," she said softly, and took her hand away. He reached down, feeling almost reverent, and started touching the folds of skin there, exploring them and searching them, mesmerized by the vision splayed across the table in front of him.

"Oh, not so hard, baby, not so hard," she said, and he eased up the pressure of his thumb, contrite. "No, don't stop! Just more gently."

He grinned and flicked the thumb again, watching her grasp the edges of the desk as her body curled and arched beneath his touch.

Her sounds altered, the moaning and soft sounds she was making speeding up. He had a feeling something was going to happen, but when she contracted around his penis, he gasped and immediately lost all self control. He came inside her again, aroused beyond his breaking point as she panted his name and squeezed even tighter around him.

Panting, he leaned forward, one arm on each side of her.

"Maker preserve me, but I am the luckiest man in this whole fucking country."

"Why, Aedan, such foul language," she said. She had the biggest, wickedest grin on her face that he'd ever seen.

"You like that, huh?" He grinned back at her.

When she nodded, he pulled her up and kissed her, whispering in her ear, "Good. There's lots more where that came from."

The End (of this story, at least…)


End file.
